lesson

I’m sure you’ve heard that old saying, “Holding a grudge is like drinking poison and expecting your enemy to die.” Apparently almost everybody from St. Augustine, to Nelson Mandela to Buddha to Alcoholics Anonymous has been credited with some form of the statement.

Whoever actually said it, I think the reason that it comes up in so many variations is that it, pretty accurately, demonstrates the damage that refusing to forgive someone can cause.

And can you think of anybody you know who has not experienced something in their lives that they haven’t either had to forgive someone else or be forgiven themselves? Of course not! We’re broken people living in a broken world … and, as we know, hurt people hurt people.

Hurt is universal…Christian or otherwise, it is unhealthy to hang onto resentment. And yet, we often hang onto that one thing harder than anything else in our lives. As a matter of fact, I have heard some people say that there are things that do not deserve forgiveness.

“The Power of Forgiveness is a collection of seven short stories that, taken together, reveal the limits, difficulties, healing qualities, and unforeseen effects an act of forgiveness can have in the lives of the people who give it—or in the lives of those who refuse to give it. One of the stories centers on acclaimed author and holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel.

“This clip begins with footage of Jewish families being ushered into concentration camps as the narrator speaks in the background: ‘Elie Wiesel was one of the few who lived to walk out of the camps—his father died only weeks before the end of the war. For the next 10 years, he was virtually silent about the experience. For the last half-century, his gift for putting words to the nightmare that was the holocaust has helped generations to never forget.’

“The video shifts to Wiesel giving a speech inside of a concentration camp’s remains. ‘So look and listen,’ he says. ‘Close your eyes and listen, but open your hearts and listen. Listen to the question that we asked ourselves then: “What happened here?”’

“The scene shifts again, and an elderly Wiesel reflects on the powerful emotions he experienced in his attempts to grapple with the holocaust later in his life. ‘I composed a prayer,’ he says. ‘Literally I composed a prayer, saying, “God of mercy, have no mercy on these souls—on these murderers of children. God of compassion, have no compassion on those who killed these children.”’ As he speaks, the video shifts to scenes of Jewish children rolling up their sleeves to reveal the numbers they had been stamped with to replace their names.

“‘I was criticized all over the world,’ Wiesel continues, “because it was published all over the world. But I felt it—I still feel it. Some persons do not deserve forgiveness. And those are the persons, really, who went beyond the human capacity for evil. They went beyond it.’”[1]

Do you agree with Weisel? Are there some people who do not deserve forgiveness? If so, who gets to decide who does or doesn’t deserve it?

I was actually shocked the first time I heard someone say that some acts/people were beyond forgiveness. I was listening to a radio program some of you might remember, Dr. Laura, and she made a statement indicating that she believed that we were under no obligation to forgive some folks – pedophiles, serial killers, etc.

I have to say that that concept had never occurred to me – not because I’m any great paragon of Christian understanding and behavior – just because I don’t believe I’d ever given the concept of forgiveness that much thought. I’d grown up in a Christian family and, as such, had heard all my life that almost everything is forgivable (the only exception being grieving the Holy Spirit) when it comes to Jesus, and that we should be like Jesus.

I know, that’s very, very simplistic and I hate to admit that I was well into adulthood when this happened. I was absolutely stopped cold by the concept that some folks did not think of forgiveness as an integral part of their experience of Grace.

Having said that, I believe once we give up any right to withhold forgiveness – ever – for any reason! Our example is Jesus who forgives everyone who sincerely asks, no matter what they’ve done. Because for Jesus, the relationship is the most important thing.

“Tom Wiles served a stint as university chaplain at Grand Canyon University in Phoenix, Arizona. A few years ago, he picked me up at the Phoenix airport in his new Ford pickup and whisked me away to keynote a leadership conference at the university. Since I was still mourning the trade-in of my Dodge truck, we immediately bonded, sharing truck stories and laughing at the bumper-sticker truism: ‘Nothing is more beautiful than a man and his truck.’

“As I climbed into his 2002 Ranger for the ride back to the airport a day later, I noticed two big scrapes by the passenger door. ‘What happened here?’ I asked.

“‘My neighbor’s basketball post fell and left those dents and white scars,’ Tom replied with a downcast voice.

“‘You’re kidding! How awful,’ I commiserated. ‘This truck is so new I can smell it.’

“‘What’s even worse is my neighbor doesn’t feel responsible for the damage.’

“Rising to my newfound friend’s defense, I said, ‘Did you contact your insurance company? How are you going to get him to pay for it?’

“‘This has been a real spiritual journey for me,’ Tom replied. ‘After a lot of soul-searching and discussions with my wife about hiring an attorney, it came down to this: I can either be in the right, or I can be in a relationship with my neighbor. Since my neighbor will probably be with me longer than this truck, I decided that I’d rather be in a relationship than be right. Besides, trucks are meant to be banged up, so I got mine initiated into the real world a bit earlier than I expected.’”[2]

How much more important is it to forgive our Christian brothers and sisters? We’re going to spend eternity with these folks – our Forever Family … how can that happen if we can’t forgive them right here and right now? I’d say that at least one of the parties involved in the disagreement won’t be part of the Forever Family – that would be the person who would rather be right than in a relationship. Is that me? Is that you?

“Then Peter came and said to Him, ‘Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me and I forgive him? Up to seven times?’ ‘Jesus said to him, ‘I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven.

“‘For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. When he had begun to settle them, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him. But since he did not have the means to repay, his lord commanded him to be sold, along with his wife and children and all that he had, and repayment to be made. So the slave fell to the ground and prostrated himself before him, saying, “Have patience with me and I will repay you everything.” And the lord of that slave felt compassion and released him and forgave him the debt. But that slave went out and found one of his fellow slaves who owed him a hundred denarii; and he seized him and began to choke him, saying, “Pay back what you owe.” So his fellow slave fell to the ground and began to plead with him, saying, “Have patience with me and I will repay you.” But he was unwilling and went and threw him in prison until he should pay back what was owed. So when his fellow slaves saw what had happened, they were deeply grieved and came and reported to their lord all that had happened. Then summoning him, his lord said to him, “You wicked slave, I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. Should you not also have had mercy on your fellow slave, in the same way that I had mercy on you?” And his lord, moved with anger, handed him over to the torturers until he should repay all that was owed him. My heavenly Father will also do the same to you, if each of you does not forgive his brother from your heart.’” Matthew 18:21-35

Hmmmm. That doesn’t sound like a suggestion to me. What do you think?

Lillianne Winegardner Lopez 11.30.2018

In matters of forgiveness, as in all other virtues, the first step (forgiving) is comparatively simple compared to the second (reconciling). Hell is always waiting for the rebound. The only prevention of the rebound is perseverance. The first moment of forgiveness is nearly always confused with other things–affection, delight, honor, pride, love of power; some good, some bad, all distracting. … But then directly afterwards, the good elements withdraw and leave the reconciliation to its own serious energy; and if that energy is too weak, it will break. … Nothing is achieved at once.

Charles Williams

Al Masters lives at the other end of our state. He’s married and had a little boy and a small business. He considered himself very blessed. And then just before Christmas some years ago, his little boy was killed by a 15-year-old kid driving a car without a license. Al Masters was filled with a deep desire for revenge. And even though that youngster–15 years old–could not be brought before the full power of the law because he was a juvenile, Al Masters wanted the very book thrown at him.

Then, on Christmas Eve, his wife got him to come to the church. He listened to the story of the Word coming to the shepherds. He recognized that he was one of the world’s ungood. And he began to weep. When he went out of the church, the next day, on Christmas, he set out to find out more about the boy who killed his son. He found that he came from a broken home, that he lived with his mother, who was an alcoholic. He went and he met the boy. He gave the boy a job in his shop, and then later took him into his home. And that boy, now a young man, says that Al Masters is the most saintly person he’d ever known.

Bruce Thielemann

I know two law partners who used to hate each other.

When one became a Christian, he asked me, “Now that I’m a Christian, what should I do?”

I said, “Why not ask him to forgive you and tell him you love him?”

“I could never do that!” he said, “because I don’t love him.”

That lawyer had put his finger squarely on one of the great challenges of the Christian life: On the one hand, everybody wants to be loved, but on the other hand, many people never experience it. That’s why we need to learn to love as Christ loves–unconditionally. We can’t manufacture that kind of love. It only comes from God; and it’s a love that draws people to Christ.

I prayed with that attorney. The next morning, he told his partner, “I’ve become a Christian, and I want to ask you to forgive me for all I’ve done to hurt you, and to tell you that I love you.”

The partner was so surprised and convicted that he, too, asked for forgiveness and said, “I would like to become a Christian. Would you tell me how?”

See what love can do?

Bill Bright

I remember seeing a picture of a husband and wife in a gentleman’s office. I said, “Nice picture.” I turned around and looked at the man, and he had tears in his eyes. So I asked him, “Why are you crying?”

He said, “There was a time in our marriage when I was unfaithful to my wife, and she found out about it. She was so deeply hurt and injured she was going to leave me and take the kids with her. I was overwhelmed at the mistake I had made, and I shut the affair down. I went to my wife in total brokenness. Knowing I did not deserve for her to answer in the affirmative, I asked her to forgive me. And she forgave me.

“This picture was taken shortly after that. When I see this picture, I see a woman who forgave me. I see a woman who was willing to stand with me in this picture. So when you see this picture you say, ‘Nice picture.’ But when I see this picture I see my life given back to me again.”

Randy Frazee

A Nigerian woman who is a physician at a great teaching hospital in the United States came out of the crowd today to say something kind about the lecture I had just given. She introduced herself using an American name. “What’s your African name?” I asked. She immediately gave it to me, several syllables long with a musical sound to it. “What does the name mean?” I wondered.

She answered, “It means ‘Child who takes the anger away.'”

When I inquired as to why she would have been given this name, she said, “My parents had been forbidden by their parents to marry. But they loved each other so much that they defied the family opinions and married anyway. For several years they were ostracized from both their families. Then my mother became pregnant with me. And when the grandparents held me in their arms for the first time, the walls of hostility came down. I became the one who swept the anger away. And that’s the name my mother and father gave me.”

It occurred to me that her name would be a suitable one for Jesus.

Gordon MacDonald

The Thlinkit tribes give a hearty welcome to Christian missionaries. In particular they are quick to accept the doctrine of the atonement, because they themselves practice it, although to many of the civilized whites it is a stumbling-block and rock of offense. As an example of their own doctrine of atonement they told Mr. Young and me one evening that 20 or 30 years ago there was a bitter war between their own and the Sitka tribe, great fighters, and pretty evenly matched. After fighting all summer in a desultory, squabbling way, fighting now under cover, now in the open, watching for every chance for a shot, none of the women dared venture to the salmon-streams or berry-fields to procure their winter stock of food. At this crisis one of the Stickeen chiefs came out of his block-house fort into an open space midway between their fortified camps, and shouted that he wished to speak to the leader of the Sitkas.

When the Sitka chief appeared, he said: “My people are hungry. They dare not go to the salmon-streams or berry-fields for winter supplies, and if this war goes on much longer most of my people will die of hunger. We have fought long enough; let us make peace. You brave Sitka warriors go home, and we will go home, and we will all set out to dry salmon and berries before it is too late.”

The Sitka chief replied: “You may well say let us stop fighting, when you have had the best of it. You have killed ten more of my tribe than we have killed of yours. Give us ten Stickeen men to balance our blood-account; then, and not till then, will we make peace and go home.”

“Very well,” replied the Stickeen chief, “you know my rank. You know that I am worth 10 common men and more. Take me, and make peace.”

This noble offer was promptly accepted; the Stickeen chief stepped forward and was shot down in sight of the fighting bands. Peace was thus established, and all made haste to their homes and ordinary work. That chief literally gave himself a sacrifice for his people. He died that they might live. Therefore, when missionaries preached the doctrine of atonement, explaining that when all mankind had gone astray, had broken God’s laws and deserved to die, God’s son came forward, and, like the Stickeen chief, offered himself as a sacrifice to heal the cause of God’s wrath and set all the people of the world free, the doctrine was readily accepted.

“Yes, your words are good,” they said. “The Son of God, the Chief of chiefs, the Maker of all the world, must be worth more than all mankind put together; therefore, when His blood was shed, the salvation of the world was made sure.”

John Muir

A teacher once told each of her students to bring a clear plastic bag and a sack of potatoes to school.

They were instructed to call to mind every person they had a grudge against. For every person they refused to forgive, they chose a potato, wrote on it the name and date, and put it in the plastic bag.

They were told to carry this bag with them everywhere, putting it beside their bed at night, on the car seat when driving, on their lap when riding, next to their desk during classes.

Some bags became quite heavy. Lugging this around, paying attention to it all the time, and remembering not to leave it in embarrassing places was a hassle.

Over time the potatoes became moldy, smelly, and began to sprout “eyes.”

Often we think of forgiveness as a gift to the other person, but it clearly is a gift to ourselves.

I heard Paul Yonggi Cho speak a few years back. Yonggi Cho is pastor of the largest church in the world. Several years ago, as his ministry was becoming international, he told God, “I will go anywhere to preach the gospel, except Japan.” He hated the Japanese with gut-deep loathing because of what Japanese troops had done to the Korean people and to members of Yonggi Cho’s own family during WWII. The Japanese were his Ninevites.

Through a combination of a prolonged inner struggle, several direct challenges from others, and finally an urgent and starkly worded invitation, Cho felt called by God to preach in Japan. He went, but he went with bitterness. The first speaking engagement was to a pastor’s conference1,000 Japanese pastors. Cho stood up to speak, and what came out of his mouth was this: “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.” And then he broke and wept. He was both brimming and desolate with hatred.

At first one, then two, then all 1,000 pastors stood up. One by one they walked up to Yonggi Cho, knelt at his feet and asked forgiveness for what they and their people had done to him and his people. As this went on, God changed Yonggi Cho. The Lord put a single message in his heart and mouth: “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Sometimes God calls us to do what we least want to do in order to reveal our heart, to reveal what’s really in our heart. How powerful is the blood of Christ? Can it heal hatred between Koreans and Japanese? Can it make a Jew love a Ninevite? Can it make you reconciled to, well, you know who?

Mark Buchanan

Several years ago one of my wife’s friends took a missionary furlough with her husband and family after an unusually tiring stint of service. She had been looking forward to this time with great anticipation. For the first time she was going to have a place of her own, a new, large townhouse-styled apartment with a patio. She is very creative and made the patio the focus of her decoration.

After a few months some new neighbors moved in. The word to describe them would be “coarse.” There was loud music day and night along with a constant flow of obscenities. They urinated in the front yard in broad daylight. They totally disrupted her peace. She could see nothing good in them.

She asked the Lord to help her be more loving, but all she got back [from her neighbors] was disgust and rejection. The crisis came when she returned home to discover that her neighbors’ children had sprayed orange paint all over her beautiful patio—the walls, the floors—everything! She was distraught and furious. She tried to pray but found herself crying out, “I cannot love them; I hate them!”

Knowing she had to deal with the sin in her heart, she began to converse with the Lord in her inner being, and a Scripture came to mind: “And beyond all these things put on love, which is the perfect bond of unity” (Colossians 3:14 NASB). In her heart she questioned, “Lord, how do I put on love?” The only way she could picture it was like putting on a coat. So that is what she determined to do—she chose to wrap herself in the love of God! As a result she began to experience a deeper life of Christ within her.

She made a list of what she would do if she really loved her exasperating neighbors, then did what she had listed. She baked cookies, she offered to baby-sit for free, she invited the mother over for coffee—and the most beautiful thing happened! She began to know and understand them. She began to see that they were living under tremendous pressures. She began to love her “enemies.” She did good to them. She lent to them without expecting anything back.

The day came when they moved—and she wept! An unnatural, unconventional love and captured her heart—a supernatural love—the love of Jesus.

Kent Hughes

Cats never forgive. Scientists have observed conciliatory behavior in many different animal species; the bulk of the research has been on primates like bonobos, mountain gorillas, and chimps, who often follow confrontations with friendly behavior like embracing or kissing. Scientists have observed similar behaviors in non-primates like goats and hyenas; the only species that has so far failed to show outward signs of reconciliation are domestic cats.

In other words, when it comes to forgiving others, don’t act like a cat!

Matt Woodley

[1] The Power of Forgiveness (Journey Films, 2008), written and directed by Martin Doblmeier

Some of you will remember who said that. His name was Rodney King. He was violently arrested by the Los Angeles police in 1992. Someone happened to record and share the incident, spawning the LA riots of 1992.

In an attempt to calm the situation, King released this statement: “People, I just want to say, you know, can we all JUST get along? Can we get along? Can we stop making it, making it horrible for the older people and the kids? … It’s just not right. It’s not right. It’s not, it’s not going to change anything. We’ll, we’ll get our justice … Please, we can get along here. We all can get along. I mean, we’re all stuck here for a while. Let’s try to work it out. Let’s try to beat it. Let’s try to beat it. Let’s try to work it out.”[1]

A lot of people kind of made fun of King and, what they seemed to think of as, a simplistic view of what was going on…but ya know, King kind of had it right. “Let’s try to work it out!”

And yet, when I look around at the way society is right now, in 2018, I don’t see much desire to work anything out. In fact, it reminds me of an old Popeye (don’t judge) cartoon. Olive Oyl is describing how things would be if she were president. After every proposal, we see a room will elephants on one side and donkeys on the other. No matter what one group agrees with, the other group disagrees: “We accept it!” “We reject it!”

Um … can we call that art predicting life? Well, if we can call a Popeye cartoon art.

Anyway, there’s an old saying that used to be proudly displayed on bumper stickers and plaques all over the United States: “I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.” Wow! I’m not seeing much of that going around these days, do you?

I know that we live in a world filled with conflict and disagreement. It seems like we’re more polarized every day … even in the family of God, we are finding it harder and harder to find any middle ground. There’s a problem with that, though. When we give our lives to Jesus Christ, we pretty much give up our right to be a contrarian.

“… God has called us to live in peace.” 1Corinthians 7:15

“Finally, brothers and sisters, rejoice! Strive for full restoration, encourage one another, be of one mind, live in peace. And the God of love and peace will be with you.” 2Corinthians 13:11

“Now we ask you, brothers and sisters, to acknowledge those who work hard among you, who care for you in the Lord and who admonish you. Hold them in the highest regard in love because of their work. Live in peace with each other. And we urge you, brothers and sisters, warn those who are idle and disruptive, encourage the disheartened, help the weak, be patient with everyone. Make sure that nobody pays back wrong for wrong, but always strive to do what is good for each other and for everyone else.” 1Thessalonians 5:12-15

“Make every effort to live in peace with everyone and to be holy; without holiness no one will see the Lord. See to it that no one falls short of the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many.” Hebrews 12:14-15

And, just in case you’re thinking Paul was making a suggestion, here’s Jesus, Himself, COMMANDING us to love one another: “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.” John 13:34

So, do you think all of this means that we should never disagree with each other – that we have to move forward in lock-step? Or can we disagree and still love each other and live in peace with each other? Can we even be angry with someone and still love them like Jesus asked us to?

Well, I believe we DO need to agree on things that lead to salvation, but after that, living in peace means allowing for people’s opinions, even when we don’t agree with them. But what do we do when our disagreements surround the way our local church is run? How our national/world church is run? Can we agree to disagree? Or do we need to take a stand? Is there room for differences in church organizations?

I’m not entirely sure I know the answers to any of those questions. I know, for myself, I absolutely detest conflict. I want everyone, everywhere to get along all the time! But I know that’s not possible in our broken, sinful world. So what does “healthy” (is there such a thing?) conflict look like?

“A young rabbi found a serious problem in his new congregation. During the Friday service, half the congregation stood for the prayers and half remained seated, and each side shouted at the other, insisting that theirs was the true tradition. Nothing the rabbi said or did helped solve the impasse. Finally, in desperation, the young rabbi sought out the synagogue’s 99-year-old founder.

“He met the old rabbi in the nursing home and poured out his troubles. ‘So tell me,’ he pleaded, ‘was it the tradition for the congregation to stand during the prayers?’

“‘No,’ answered the old rabbi.

“‘Ah,’ responded the younger man, ‘then it was the tradition to sit during the prayers.’

“‘No,’ answered the old rabbi.

“‘Well,’ the young rabbi responded, ‘what we have is complete chaos! Half the people stand and shout and the other half sit and scream.’

That would definitely be unhealthy conflict … do you think there’s a way to resolve such things within the church family, that do not have anything to do with salvation, in a way that no one gets their feelings hurt?

Maybe not. But maybe if we could all stop for a minute and realize that we may not know all the answers … maybe conflict, when it comes, would be easier to resolve.

“I used to do a lot of marriage counseling, and often one spouse would come in the office and start ranting and raving, ‘My husband does this …;’ ‘My wife never will do that …;’ and it would go on and on. I would sit there thinking, This counseling isn’t going to be very effective, because the person who apparently needs to change isn’t even in the room. So I would get a pad of paper, draw a circle on it, and say, ‘This is a pie that represents all the chaos in your marriage. Now, 100 percent of the blame is in that pie, because that’s where all the chaos is.’ I would give them the pen and say, ‘I want you to draw a slice of pie that you think represents your responsibility for the chaos.’ The piece of pie that that client would draw was never very big, but I would say, ‘Okay. So why don’t you and I talk about just this. Let’s talk about this piece that is your responsibility. Let’s talk about your slice.’ You know what? My approach never worked. I could never get anybody to stay on his or her slice of the pie.

“So here is what I want you to do this week: As you experience relational conflict at work, at home, with your friends—any conflict of any sort, big or small—stop and think about your own slice of the pie. Ask yourself, What is in my slice of the pie? Have I taken responsibility for my life, really, or am I enjoying the blame game so much that it has allowed me to ignore what I am ultimately responsible for?

“In any relationship, if you can ever get the two parties to own their piece of the pie, you can make progress. But if everybody is focused on the other person’s slice of the pie, you will just have chaos.”[3]

Can we do that this week? Take responsibility for the role we play in the conflicts in our personal lives and in our church family? Maybe if we can look at the other person and remember that both of us are broken and sinful? That they too are someone that Jesus died for? That conflict doesn’t have to end in hate? That Jesus wants us all to spend eternity with Him, not just the ones who agree about the color of the carpet in the sanctuary? Remember: “For God so [greatly] loved and dearly prized the world, that He [even] gave His [One and] only begotten Son, so that whoever believes and trusts in Him [as Savior] shall not perish, but have eternal life.” John 3:16 AMP

Lillianne Winegardner Lopez 11.9.18

In a congregational meeting, two young male professionals made a presentation to update the sanctuary sound system. Their pitch was well delivered. As they began fielding questions, a retired gentleman, a former engineer, challenged one of the presenter’s use of a technical term. I don’t remember the exact phrasing that sparked the fireworks, but the atmosphere in our fellowship hall, which had held a little tension because the sound system upgrade involved a significant amount of money, suddenly intensified.

The young presenter and this former engineer began to quarrel about who was right, as if they were the only two in the room. I began to feel embarrassed for the older gentleman, since his comment and persistence provoked and sustained the interchange. The discussion ended awkwardly, the congregation voting to upgrade the sound system, and the meeting came to a close. Afterwards, I saw the elderly gentleman amble toward where the presenters sat. Later I heard from others who overheard that conversation: the former engineer apologized for his conduct and asked one of the young professionals out for breakfast to discuss the sound-system project.

At its best, the local church functions as an arena in which conflict and hurts among participants who choose to stay can open up possibilities for spiritual progress.

Dave Goetz

It’s nice to talk with people who can make a point without impaling anyone on it.

Vicki Edwards

At one point in his journey towards Christ, Nathan Foster (the son of author Richard Foster) was living “a ragged attempt at discipleship.” He was afraid to share his honest thoughts about God and his disillusionment with the church, especially with a father who had given his life to serve God and the church.

But one day as Nathan shared a ride with his dad on a ski lift, he blurted out, “I hate going to church. It’s nothing against God; I just don’t see the point.” Richard Foster quietly said, “Sadly, many churches today are simply organized ways of keeping people from God.”

Surprised by his dad’s response, Nathan launched into “a well-rehearsed, cynical rant” about the church:

Okay, so since Jesus paid such great attention to the poor and disenfranchised, why isn’t the church the world’s epicenter for racial, social and economic justice? I’ve found more grace and love in worn-out folks at the local bar than those in the pew … . And instead of allowing our pastors to be real human beings with real problems, we prefer some sort of overworked rock stars.

His dad smiled and said, “Good questions, Nate. Overworked rock stars: that’s funny. You’ve obviously put some thought into this.” Once again, Nathan was surprised that his “rant” didn’t faze his dad. “He didn’t blow me off or put me down.” From that point on Nathan actually looked forward to conversations with his dad.

It also proved to be a turning point in his spiritual life. By the end of the winter, Nathan was willing to admit,

Somewhere amid the wind and snow of the Continental Divide, I decided that if I’m not willing to be an agent of change [in the church], my critique is a waste … . Regardless of how it is defined, I was learning that the church was simply a collection of broken people recklessly loved by God … . Jesus said he came for the sick, not the healthy, and certainly our churches reflect that.

Spurred on by his father’s acceptance and honesty and by his own spiritual growth, Nathan has continued to ask honest questions, but he has also started to love and change the church, rather than just criticize it.

Nathan Foster

In an article for Leadership journal, Gordon MacDonald shares the story of a friend who was caught in the middle of a nasty church conflict that had spun out of control. When MacDonald asked his friend how the situation had been resolved, his friend told him that he had been confronted with a piercing piece of advice: “Someone has to show a little dignity in this thing. It really should start with you.” MacDonald’s friend took the wisdom to heart, and it worked wonders in the situation. MacDonald took the wisdom to heart himself and had the opportunity to apply it when caught in the middle of an airport fiasco.

MacDonald was scheduled to fly from Boston’s Logan Airport to Chicago, but the boarding-pass attendant realized that he was scheduled to fly not out of Boston, but Manchester, New Hampshire. MacDonald asked whether she could solve the problem for him. She could—but for an extra $360.

MacDonald was shocked. “I’m a 100k customer on your airline. I give you guys a lot of my business. Can’t you just get me on the flight for free as a courtesy?” But the boarding-pass attendant said her hands were tied. MacDonald would have to pay the $360.

The testy situation had reached its decisive moment. Though the problem was a result of MacDonald’s incorrect booking, he felt “depreciated, blown off, victimized by a big company that seemed to put a monetary value on every transaction.” As he points out in his article, “the ungodly part of me wanted to say something sarcastic (about friendly skies, for example) that would hurt the other person as I felt hurt. Hurting her would help me to feel that I’d hurt the rest of the company—all the way up to the CEO. Perhaps she’d call and tell him how I felt so that his day would be ruined like mine was about to be ruined.”

But then he remembered the advice his friend had been given: “Someone has to show a little dignity in this thing. It really should start with you.”

MacDonald swallowed his pride and applied the advice to the situation at hand. He writes about what happened next:

I said to the boarding-pass lady, “Before I pay you the $360, let me say one more thing. Six weeks ago I came here to take a flight to the West Coast and discovered that the airline had cancelled the flight and hadn’t told me. They said they were sorry, and I forgave them.

“Then two weeks later, on a flight to Europe, the airline lost my luggage (for two days). They said they were really, really sorry. And, again, I forgave them.

“Last week, on a third flight, they got me to my destination two hours late. Your people fell all over themselves saying how sorry they were about the delays. And you know what? I forgave them again. Now here I am—fourth time in six weeks—wanting to fly with you again. See how forgiving I am?

“But this morning the problem’s mine. I forgot that I scheduled myself out of the other airport. And I am really, really sorry that I made this terrible mistake.

“You guys have said ‘sorry’ to me three times in the last six weeks, and, each time I have forgiven you. Now I would like to say ‘sorry’ to you and ask you to forgive me and put me on that flight without charging me the $360. You have three ‘sorries,’ and now I’m asking for one. Does that make any sense to you?”

The boarding-pass lady took her own time-out and considered my idea and then said, “It really does make sense to me. Let me see what I can do.”

She typed and typed and typed into her computer—as if she was writing a novella—and then looked up with a smile. “We can do this,” she said. Two minutes later I was off to the gate with my boarding pass.

That morning dignity won. The airline forgave me. The skies were indeed friendly. I didn’t have to pay an extra $360.

MacDonald offers these closing thoughts: “This increasingly crowded, noisy world is generating more and more of these kinds of moments where no one is really doing something bad … just stupid (me, in this case). But because our human dignity is eroded by these constant clashes, even our innocent mistakes point to the possibility for hateful exchanges and vengeful acts. You have to keep alert lest you get sucked into saying and doing things that you’ll regret an hour later.”

Leadership Journal

Forgiveness means it finally becomes unimportant that you hit back.

Anne Lamott

The peace intended is not merely that of political and economic stability, as in the Greco-Roman world, but peace in the Old Testament inclusive sense of wholeness, all that constitutes well-being…

The “peacemakers,” therefore, are not simply those who bring peace between two conflicting parties, but those actively at work making peace, bringing about wholeness and well-being among the alienated.

Robert A. Guelich

In his 2007 article “All the Rage,” Andrew Santella observes that anger is a prominent emotion in American life. Our politics is dominated by angry rhetoric; cases of road rage are increasingly common. The shelves of local bookstores are full of books explaining both the benefits and the dangers of anger. In fact, many of the books are simply “Wrath Lit”: published written rants on various topics.

Peter Wood, in his book A Bee in the Mouth, writes that a sure sign of America’s problem with anger is the tone of its politics. “For the first time in our political history, declaring absolute hatred for one’s opponent has become a sign not of sad excess, but of good character.”

As prevalent as it is, anger is a bit mysterious; it can be either one’s greatest liability or one’s greatest asset. Carol Tavris, author of Anger: The Misunderstood Emotion, explains:

I have watched people use anger, in the name of emotional liberation, to erode affection and trust, whittle away their spirits in bitterness and revenge, diminish their dignity in years of spiteful hatred. And I watch with admiration those who use anger to probe for truth, who challenge and change the complacent injustices of life.

Andrew Santella

A Christian fellowship lives and exists by the intercession of its members for one another, or it collapses. I can no longer condemn or hate a brother for whom I pray, no matter how much trouble he causes me. His face, that hitherto may have been strange and intolerable to me, is transformed in intercession into the countenance of a brother for whom Christ died, the face of a forgiven sinner. This is a happy discovery for the Christian who begins to pray for others.

After 125 years, the infamous feud between the Hatfields and McCoys is finally history. Sixty descendants of the original clans gathered on Saturday, June 14, 2003, in Pikefield, Kentucky, to sign a document declaring an official end to more than a century of hatred and bloodshed.

Most think the feuding between the McCoys of Kentucky and Hatfields of West Virginia began in 1878 when Randolph McCoy accused one of the Hatfields of stealing a hog. The Hatfields won the “hog war” when a McCoy cousin sided with the opposing clan.

Feelings festered and other incidents occurred that finally resulted in the shooting death of Ellison Hatfield in 1882. Retaliation begat retaliation until the feud claimed 11 more family members over the next ten years. Subsequent conflicts between the two clans have involved court battles over timber rights and cemetery plots.

The treaty calling for peace reads: “We do hereby and formally declare an official end to all hostilities, implied, inferred, and real, between the families, now and forevermore. We ask by God’s grace and love that we be forever remembered as those that bound together the hearts of two families to form a family of freedom in America.”

Reo Hatfield, who first thought of the ceremony, said, “We’re not saying you don’t have to fight, because sometimes you do have to fight. But you don’t have to fight forever.”

Although the treaty was largely symbolic, both the governor of Kentucky and the governor of West Virginia were present for the nationally televised ceremony.

Stephen Leon Alligood

Forgiving the unforgivable is hard. So was the cross: hard words, hard wood, hard nails.

William S. Stoddard

People in the church are like porcupines in a snowstorm. We need each other to keep warm, but we prick each other if we get too close.

How many of you remember that song and the show it introduced – Cheers. Yeah, the show took place in a bar, but really it was about having a group of people who would rather be with each other than anybody else. They weren’t family, but they were more than friends. Think of what happened every time the character, Norm walked into the room. Every time he walked in, the folks in the room acknowledge him by calling his name. Who wouldn’t want to be included in a group of people who enjoyed your presence that much? Probably the last time you or I were greeted like that, was by our children when they were toddlers, right?

“An old Marine Corps buddy of mine, to my pleasant surprise, came to know Christ after he was discharged. I say surprise because he cursed loudly, fought hard, chased women, drank heavily, loved war and weapons, and hated chapel services.

“A number of months ago, I ran into this fellow, and after we’d talked awhile, he put his hand on my shoulder and said, ‘You know, Chuck, the only thing I still miss is that old fellowship I used to have with all the guys down at the tavern. I remember how we used to sit around and let our hair down. I can’t find anything like that for Christians. I no longer have a place to admit my faults and talk about my battles–where somebody won’t preach at me and frown and quote me a verse.’

“It wasn’t one month later that in my reading I came across this profound paragraph: ‘The neighborhood bar is possibly the best counterfeit that there is to the fellowship Christ wants to give his church. It’s an imitation, dispensing liquor instead of grace, escape rather than reality–but it is a permissive, accepting, and inclusive fellowship. It is unshockable. It is democratic. You can tell people secrets, and they usually don’t tell others or even want to. The bar flourishes not because most people are alcoholics, but because God has put into the human heart the desire to know and be known, to love and be loved, and so many seek a counterfeit at the price of a few beers. ‘With all my heart,’ this writer concludes, ‘I believe that Christ wants his church to be unshockable, a fellowship where people can come in and say, “I’m sunk, I’m beat, I’ve had it.” Alcoholics Anonymous has this quality–our churches too often miss it.’

“Now before you take up arms to shoot some wag that would compare your church to the corner bar, stop and ask yourself some tough questions, like I had to do. Make a list of some possible embarrassing situations people may not know how to handle.

“A woman discovers her husband is a practicing homosexual. Where in the church can she find help where she’s secure with her secret?

“Your mate talks about separation or divorce. To whom do you tell it?

“Your daughter is pregnant and she’s run away–for the third time. She’s no longer listening to you. Who do you tell that to?

“You lost your job, and it was your fault. You blew it, so there’s shame mixed with unemployment. Who do you tell that to?

“Financially, you were unwise, and you’re in deep trouble. Or a man’s wife is an alcoholic. Or something as horrible as getting back the biopsy from the surgeon, and it reveals cancer, and the prognosis isn’t good. Or you had an emotional breakdown. To whom do you tell it?

“We’re the only outfit I know that shoots its wounded. We can become the most severe, condemning, judgmental, guilt-giving people on the face of planet Earth, and we claim it’s in the name of Jesus Christ. And all the while, we don’t even know we’re doing it. That’s the pathetic part of it all.”[2]

Does that hurt a little bit to read? It hurts me, when I think that sometimes, when we have problems, our church family is the last place we think to come for help because we’re afraid (1) that your secret will become the church gossip, and (2) that instead of a loving ear you’ll get a heavy dose of judgment and condemnation.

The book of Acts paints a very different picture of a church community.

“They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. Everyone was filled with awe at the many wonders and signs performed by the apostles. All the believers were together and had everything in common. They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.” Acts 2:42-47

A couple of sentences really stand out to me: “All believers were together …” and “Everyday they continued to meet together … They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people.”

How many of us only see our church friends one time a week, at church on Sabbath? We say “hi,” we chat politely, and then we walk out of the church and don’t even think of them again until the next Sabbath? How many of us would admit that our connection with our church friends is probably the weakest connection of all our friends? How tragic is that?

I don’t have the answers. But what can we do to create a church environment that’s more like the Cheers environment – “Where everybody knows your name / And they’re always glad you came”

Lillianne Winegardner Lopez 10.26.2018

It’s no news flash that friends make us happy, but Meliksah Demir, Ph.D., a professor at Northern Arizona University, has drilled down to reveal exactly what about friendship warms our hearts. It turns out that companionship—simply doing things together—is the component of friendship that most makes us happy. And the reason friends make us happy, Demir has concluded, is that they make us feel that we matter.

Eric Barker

Don’t let pride stop you from opening your home. Ignore the cat hair on the couch (or in the mac and cheese). It likely won’t kill anyone as decisively as loneliness will. Add as much water to the pot to stretch the soup. If you run out of food, make pancakes, and put the kids in charge of making that meal. See how much fun that is.

And know that someone is spared from another humiliating fall into internet pornography because he is instead walking with you and your kids and dogs, as you share the Lord’s Day, one model of how the Lord gives you daily grace and a way of escape. Know that someone is spared the fear and darkness of depression because she is needed at your house, always on the Lord’s Day, the day she is never alone, but instead safely in community, where her place at the table is needed and necessary and relied upon. Know that someone is drawn into Christ’s love because the Bible reading and psalm singing that come at the close of the meal include everyone, and that it reminds us that no one is scapegoated in this Christ-bearing community. Know that host and guest are equally precious and fragile, and that you will play both roles throughout the course of this life. The doors here open wide. They must.

Rosaria Butterfield

…we must guard against ‘spiritual autoimmune disease,’ in which spiritual white cells see normal cells within the body as enemies and try to destroy them …

Is it possible for a human body to “bite and devour” healthy cells, destroying life? Absolutely. Sometimes white blood cells mistakenly attack healthy cells in the blood, causing disastrous results. The immune system fails to recognize components of the body as normal. It then creates autoantibodies that attack its own cells, tissues, or organs. This causes inflammation and damage, and it leads to autoimmune disorders. For example, autoimmune hemolytic anemia is a group of disorders that attack red blood cells as if they were substances foreign to the body. Like other cases of anemia, the person may experience shortness of breath, tiredness, and jaundice. When the destruction of healthy red cells persists for a long period of time, the spleen may enlarge, resulting in a sense of abdominal fullness and pain

God intends for his body to be healthy, nourish each other, protect each other, and carry harmful waste away. Horace Smith

There can be no maturity in the spiritual life, no obedience in following Jesus, no wholeness in the Christian life, apart from an immersion in, and embrace of, community. I am not myself by myself.

Eugene Peterson

Steve Bankes had a remarkably simple idea for reaching out to his neighbors: he decided to put a patio in his front yard. A 2009 Chicago Tribune article showed a picture of five adults relaxing on chairs on a small patio under shade trees near a suburban street. A couple of kids were there, too, and a dog sleeping under one chair. Barbara Brotman, the writer of the column, said, “It would have been charming, but unremarkable, if it had been in their backyard, the usual spot for patios. But this patio was in their front yard.”

According to the 2009 article, the front yard patio became like a friendship magnet for Mr. Bankes’ neighbors, “especially when Steve had … set out a fire pit and built a bonfire. So people began to wander over, sit down and talk. It was so easy and low-key. No invitation required; if you saw people out there, you joined them.” Steve called his patio “the Conversation Curve,” and he told the paper that his goal was “fishing for people.”

A year later, almost to the day, Ms. Brotman wrote a follow-up article. Apparently, Keith Speaks from Hammond, Indiana, read the story and immediately called Bankes to discuss his “fishing for people” front yard patio concept. Keith Speaks works in community development, and he wanted to use the concept to build friendships in his town. So Speaks started the “Please, Have a Seat!” program, which gives grants for homeowners to create “micro parks” in their front yards. The follow-up article in 2010 described the unveiling ceremony for some of these micro parks: “Rev. Stephen Gibson, whose [church] has two benches of its own … gave a benediction. ‘I ask God to bless this bench as a symbol of the spirit of welcome.'” Lee Eclov

Long before the church had pulpits and baptisteries, she had kitchens and dinner tables. Even a casual reading of the New Testament unveils the house as the primary tool of the church. The primary gathering place of the church was the home. Consider the genius of God’s plan. The first generation of Christians was a tinderbox of contrasting cultures and backgrounds. At least fifteen different nationalities heard Peter’s sermon on the Day of Pentecost. Jews stood next to Gentiles. Men worshiped with women. Slaves and masters alike sought after Christ. Can people of such varied backgrounds and cultures get along with each other?

We wonder the same thing today. Can Hispanics live in peace with Anglos? Can Democrats find common ground with Republicans? Can a Christian family carry on a civil friendship with the Muslim couple down the street? Can divergent people get along?

The early church did—without the aid of sanctuaries, church buildings, clergy, or seminaries. They did so through the clearest of messages (the Cross) and the simplest of tools (the home).

Not everyone can serve in a foreign land, lead a relief effort, or volunteer at the downtown soup kitchen. But who can’t be hospitable? Do you have a front door? A table? Chairs? Bread and meat for sandwiches? Congratulations! You just qualified to serve in the most ancient of ministries: hospitality.

Something holy happens around a dinner table that will never happen in a sanctuary. In a church auditorium you see the backs of heads. Around the table you see the expressions on faces. In the auditorium one person speaks; around the table everyone has a voice. Church services are on the clock. Around the table there is time to talk.

Hospitality opens the door to uncommon community. It’s no accident that hospitality and hospital come from the same Latin word, for they both lead to the same result: healing. When you open your door to someone, you are sending this message: “You matter to me and to God.” You may think you are saying, “Come over for a visit.” But what your guest hears is, “I’m worth the effort.” Max Lucado

Christian brotherhood is not an ideal which we must realize; it is rather a reality created by God in Christ in which we may participate.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer

A few years ago, a friend assembled a weekend work party to lay sod in his yard. The sun was shining. He had fresh coffee and cinnamon buns. And the crew he’d called together were all good friends. We liked each other immensely.

Then Al said, “Guys, do you realize something? This is it! This is it!” We stopped.

“Al, this is what?”

“This is community.”

We all murmured our assent and congratulated one another. Yes. This is it.

But then I said, “Al, this is great, but I don’t think this is it. I like you all too much. Add a person or two to this company who lacks social graces, who looks different, who’s needy, smelly, and irritating. If we truly loved a person like that, then that would be it.”

We’re always tempted to turn the church into a club. With our kind of people. With a strict decorum designed to keep up appearances and keep out the, shall we say, undesirables. But Jesus said it’s no credit to us if we love those who love us—our kind of people. We don’t need God to love them; natural affinities are sufficient. But you, Jesus said, are to love the least of these and the worst of these—losers, enemies. That takes God: a supernatural subversion of our own prejudices, and a heaven-borne infusion of God’s prodigal love.

I preach that. I try to live that.

A year or so after our sod-laying party, Wanda arrived. Wanda was not our kind of people. She was thirsty alright, for beer, port, rum, vanilla extract, whatever. She had only one way to pay for that. I’ll let you guess.

But she was desperate, and thirsty for something else. She called the church one day, wondering if she could see a pastor, and now! Two of us met with her. She told us her troubled story. I told her about the woman at the well whose life, like Wanda’s, wasn’t going well. But she met Jesus and he offered her living water. I explained what living water was, and asked Wanda if she’d like some.

The other pastor said, “Now, Wanda, this Sunday will be your first time in church. Don’t feel you have to fit in right away. You can sit at the back if you like, come late, leave early. Whatever is comfortable.”

Wanda looked at him sideways. “Why would I do that?” she said. “I’ve been waiting for this all my life.”

That Sunday, Wanda was the first to arrive. She sat at the front, and loudly agreed with everything I said. She was the last to leave. The next Sunday, same thing, except she brought a friend, one of her kind of people. I preached on servanthood. My main point: if you’ve tasted the love of Jesus, you’ll want to serve. It was Communion Sunday. In those days, we called our elders The Servant Leadership Team. I asked the Servant Leaders to come and help with Communion. That day only two of our team were in church. They straggled to the front.

All Wanda heard was the word servant. And she had been listening intently to my sermon: if you’ve tasted the love of Jesus, you’ll want to serve.

She walked straight up to serve Communion with the other two “servants.”

I flinched.

Then I remembered Luke 7, Jesus’ words to Simon the Pharisee as a woman, not unlike Wanda, washed Jesus’ feet: “Do you see this woman?”

Do you see her?

I leaned over to Wanda and said, “Since this is your very first time doing this, do you mind if I help?”

So Wanda and I served Communion. The best part was watching the faces of the people I love and serve and pray for and preach to.

Not one flinched. They saw her.

This is it. Mark Buchanan

Questions can make hermits out of us, driving us into hiding. Yet the cave has no answers. Christ distributes courage through community; he dissipates doubts through fellowship. He never deposits all knowledge in one person but distributes pieces of the jigsaw puzzle to many. When you interlock your understanding with mine, and we share our discoveries, when we mix, mingle, confess and pray, Christ speaks. Max Lucado

Love cannot exist in isolation: away from others, love bloats into pride. Grace cannot be received privately: cut off from others, it is perverted into greed. Hope cannot develop in solitude: separated from the community, it goes to seed in the form of fantasies. No gift, no virtue can develop and remain healthy apart from the community of faith. “Outside the church there is no salvation” is not ecclesiastical arrogance but spiritual common sense, confirmed in everyday experience. Eugene Peterson

In Matthew 9:37, Jesus tells his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few.” The results of a 2007 survey illustrates this point well:

82 percent—the number of un-churched people who are receptive to attending church if invited and escorted by a friend

21 percent—the number of church-going Christians who invited someone to church in 2006 Bill White

When he left Rivendell, Frodo didn’t head out with 1,000 Elves. He had eight companions. Jesus didn’t march around backed by hundreds of followers, either. He had 12 men—knuckleheads, every last one of them, but they were a band of brothers.

This is the way of the kingdom of God. Though we are part of a great company, we are meant to live in little platoons. The little companies we form must be small enough for each of the members to know one another as friends and allies. Is it possible for 5,000 people who gather for an hour on a Sunday morning to really and truly know each other? Okay, how about 500? One hundred and eight? It can’t be done. They can’t possibly be intimate allies.

It can be inspiring and encouraging to celebrate with a big ol’ crowd of people, but who will fight for your heart? John Eldridge

The lesson is the union with others is more significant than your individual existence. It doesn’t deny the importance of your individual existence; it just means that you are a better person the more you connect with others. You’re going to know more, you’re going to be stronger, and you’re going to have a better life if you get over yourself. Viggo Mortensen

A man went to an asylum for the criminally insane. He was a bit surprised to find that there were three guards to take care of a hundred inmates. He said to one of the guards, “Aren’t you afraid that the inmates will unite, overcome you, and escape?” The guard said “Lunatics never unite.” Locusts do. Christians should. If we don’t, we don’t know where our power is. Haddon Robinson

No man should be alone when he opposes Satan. The church and the ministry of the Word were instituted for this purpose, that hands may be joined together and one may help another. If the prayer of one doesn’t help, the prayer of another will. Martin Luther

In Witnesses of a Third Way: A Fresh Look at Evangelism, Robert Neff’s chapter includes this story about visiting a church service: “It was one of those mornings when the tenor didn’t get out of bed on the right side. … As I listened to his faltering voice, I looked around. People were pulling out hymnals to locate the hymn being sung by the soloist.

“By the second verse, the congregation had joined the soloist in the hymn. And by the third verse, the tenor was beginning to find the range. And by the fourth verse, it was beautiful. And on the fifth verse the congregation was absolutely silent, and the tenor sang the most beautiful solo of his life. That is life in the body of Christ, enabling one another to sing the tune Christ has given us.” John H. Unger

Church-goers are like coals in a fire. When they cling together, they keep the flame aglow; when they separate, they die out. Billy Graham

The Bible is all about community: from the Garden of Eden to the City at the end. George F. MacLeod

“In one Leadership cartoon, a man at a church meeting says to himself, Oh great! Here comes Bob. I told him I’d pray for him! ‘Dear God, help Bob. Amen.’

“He reaches out his hand to Bob and enthusiastically says, ‘Hey, Bob, been prayin’ for you!’”[1]

Some folks would say, “It’s funny because it’s true.” In reality, I don’t think it’s that funny, just really, really sad, because it is so very true – for me anyway. I’m ashamed to say that I often do exactly as the cartoon illustrates.

I’m also afraid that I’m not the only one. I’m afraid that we take the idea of prayer much too lightly. We throw around the phrase, “I’ll pray for you” so easily. We say it and then we walk on and continue our day, and probably (in my case, anyway) not think of our words again until we happen to see that person again.

I don’t believe that any of us would say that we don’t pray…but in all honesty, our prayers revolve around us and ours…and all though we mean well, offering to pray for someone is just something we say, like “Have a nice day.”

It’s kind of sad, don’t you think? Because really praying for each other, sincerely praying for each other, is one of the most powerful, life changing experiences in the world. “A Christian fellowship lives and exists by the intercession of its members for one another, or it collapses. I can no longer condemn or hate a brother for whom I pray, no matter how much trouble he causes me. His face, that hitherto may have been strange and intolerable to me, is transformed in intercession into the countenance of a brother for whom Christ died, the face of a forgiven sinner. This is a happy discovery for the Christian who begins to pray for others.”[2]

It seems to me, that if we took Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s statement seriously and really practiced it, our lives, our homes, our churches, our workplaces, would be so much more peaceful, and we would lead much more conflict-free lives. Try to imagine what a blessing that would be, of the things we could accomplish!

We have a responsibility to pray for each other and not just for ourselves. As Christians we claim to follow the example of Jesus Christ, and He prayed for His friends and for us. Did you know that Jesus prayed for you and me? He did! Isn’t that amazing? Jesus looked down through history and prayed specifically for us.

In John 17, Jesus is spending His last few hours on earth with His disciples – His closest friends on earth. He’s been explaining to them what to expect to happen after His death. He finishes this time with them with a prayer. In that prayer, he first prays for Himself: “After saying all these things, Jesus looked up to heaven and said, ‘Father, the hour has come. Glorify your Son so he can give glory back to you. ‘For you have given him authority over everyone. He gives eternal life to each one you have given him. And this is the way to have eternal life—to know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, the one you sent to earth. I brought glory to you here on earth by completing the work you gave me to do. Now, Father, bring me into the glory we shared before the world began.’” John 17:1-5

That is a powerful prayer, isn’t it? How many of us pray for ourselves as though we really believed that we are the sons and daughters of God and that God is not like Santa Claus, but the actual Creator of the Universe? Hmmmm.

Jesus goes on with His prayer by praying for His disciples who are sitting right there with Him: “I have revealed you to the ones you gave me from this world. They were always yours. You gave them to me, and they have kept your word. Now they know that everything I have is a gift from you, for I have passed on to them the message you gave me. They accepted it and know that I came from you, and they believe you sent me.

“My prayer is not for the world, but for those you have given me, because they belong to you. All who are mine belong to you, and you have given them to me, so they bring me glory. Now I am departing from the world; they are staying in this world, but I am coming to you. Holy Father, you have given me your name; now protect them by the power of your name so that they will be united just as we are. During my time here, I protected them by the power of the name you gave me. I guarded them so that not one was lost, except the one headed for destruction, as the Scriptures foretold.

“Now I am coming to you. I told them many things while I was with them in this world so they would be filled with my joy. I have given them your word. And the world hates them because they do not belong to the world, just as I do not belong to the world. I’m not asking you to take them out of the world, but to keep them safe from the evil one. They do not belong to this world any more than I do. Make them holy by your truth; teach them your word, which is truth. Just as you sent me into the world, I am sending them into the world. And I give myself as a holy sacrifice for them so they can be made holy by your truth.” John 17:6-19

Again, how money of us pray for our friends and family like Jesus prayed for His friends? How many of us go beyond, “God please be with Susie and help her have a great day.”? How many of our friends/family could we actually say, “I give myself as a holy sacrifice for them…”?

And then, Jesus prayed for each one of us: “I am praying not only for these disciples but also for all who will ever believe in me through their message. I pray that they will all be one, just as you and I are one—as you are in me, Father, and I am in you. And may they be in us so that the world will believe you sent me.

“I have given them the glory you gave me, so they may be one as we are one. I am in them and you are in me. May they experience such perfect unity that the world will know that you sent me and that you love them as much as you love me. Father, I want these whom you have given me to be with me where I am. Then they can see all the glory you gave me because you loved me even before the world began!

“O righteous Father, the world doesn’t know you, but I do; and these disciples know you sent me. I have revealed you to them, and I will continue to do so. Then your love for me will be in them, and I will be in them.” John 17:20-26

Read that slowly and carefully. Feel the weight of that prayer? Can you feel the way it sits on your shoulders? Jesus prayed specifically for you and me. He prayed that you and I would be so unified that anybody who meets us will know that we are His because of our love for each other and Him. Are we accepting the answer to that prayer into our lives? Are we letting people see the answer to that prayer in us?

As I was reading John 17 today, I’m not sure that we shouldn’t read this chapter regularly and often – maybe once a week, to remind us of (1) how we should pray for others, and (2) that Jesus prayed – and continues to intercede with the Father – for us!

We need to feel the weight of that prayer and the prayers of our family and friends in our lives.

Lillianne Winegardner Lopez 10.12.2018

In 2010 a group of eight people from two churches felt called to the Detroit Boulevard neighborhood of Sacramento. It was known as one of the most notorious crime-ridden neighborhoods in all of Sacramento. Each house in that neighborhood was a place of danger. Nonetheless this group of eight decided to walk through the neighborhood praying over each home and praying for the presence of Christ to reign over violence, addiction, and satanic oppression. They began walking through the neighborhood, praying over each home and rebuking the demonic strongholds of addiction and violence.

One of the eight, former Sacramento police officer and gang detective Michael Xiong, reported that “each time we prayed over the houses, we felt the weight of oppression becoming lighter.” A woman from one of the houses confronted them. When she discovered they were praying for the community, she asked for healing, and God healed her.

The group soon physically moved into the neighborhood and started what they called Detroit Life Church. A couple years later a local newspaper, the Sacramento Bee, reported that there were no homicides, robberies, or sex crimes, and only one assault in Detroit Boulevard between 2013 and 2014. Detroit Boulevard had been transformed by a small group of people who began their ministry in the neighborhood by praying around houses, streets, and parks for the power of Satan to be vanquished. Kingdom prayer in body is what it means to be faithfully present to his presence in the world. David E. Fitch

Prayer is one of the most common phenomena of human life. Even deliberately nonreligious people pray at times. Studies have shown that in secularized countries, prayer continues to be practiced not only by those who have no religious preference but even by many of those who do not believe in God. One 2004 study found that nearly 30 percent of atheists admitted they prayed “sometimes,” and another found that 17 percent of nonbelievers in God pray regularly. The frequency of prayer increases with age, even among those who do not return to church or identify with any institutional faith. Italian scholar Giuseppe Giordan summarized: “In virtually all studies of the sociology of religious behavior it is clearly apparent that a very high percentage of people declare they pray every day—and many say even many times a day.”

Does this mean that everyone prays? No, it does not. Many atheists are rightly offended by the saying “There are no atheists in foxholes.” There are many people who do not pray even in times of extreme danger. Still, though prayer … is a global [reality], inhabiting all cultures and involving the overwhelming majority of people at some point in their lives. Efforts to find cultures, even very remote and isolated ones, without some form of religion and prayer have failed. There has always been some form of attempt to “communicate between human and divine realms.” There seems to be a human instinct for prayer. Swiss theologian Karl Barth calls it our “incurable God-sickness.” Tim Keller

After watching a program about bears on Animal Channel, my six-year-old grandson, Trevor, had a scary dream.

“Mommy,” he said. “I had a bad dream. I was being chased through the woods by a big, mean bear.”

Then he had an interesting question: “Mommy, was I the predator or the prey?”

To which his mother responded, “Honey, you were the prey.”

“That’s right,” he said, “because there would be a lot of people praying for me, wouldn’t there?” Van Morris

V. (Ed) Hill, who pastored Mt. Zion Missionary Baptist Church in Los Angeles, tells the story of how “Mama’s” love and prayers changed his life. During the height of the Depression, Hill’s real mother, who had five children of her own, didn’t have enough food to go around, so she sent four-year-old Ed to live with a friend in a small country town called Sweet Home. Ed just called her Mama. As he was growing up in Sweet Home, Mama displayed remarkable faith which led her to have big plans for young Ed. Against nearly insurmountable obstacles, Mama helped Ed graduate from high school (the only student to graduate that year from the country school) and even insisted that he go to college.

She took Ed to the bus station, handed him the ticket and five dollars and said, “Now, go off to Prairie View College, and Mama is going to be praying for you.” Hill claims that he didn’t know much about prayer, but he knew Mama did. When he arrived at the college with a dollar and ninety cents in his pocket, they told him he needed eighty dollars in cash in order to register. Here’s how Hill describes what happened next:

I got in line …, and the devil said to get out of line …, but I heard my Mama saying in my ear, “I’ll be praying for you.” I stood in line on Mama’s prayer. Soon there was [another new student ahead of me], and I began to get nervous, but I stayed in line …. Just about the time [the other student] got all of her stuff and turned away, Dr. Drew touched me on the shoulder, and he said, “Are you Ed Hill?” I said, “Yes.” “Are you Ed Hill from Sweet Home?” “Yes.” “Have you paid yet?” “Not quite.”

“We’ve been looking for you all this morning,” [he said].

I said, “Well, what do [you] want with me?”

“We have a four-year scholarship that will pay your room and board, your tuition, and give you thirty dollars a month to spend.”

And I heard Mama say, “I will be praying for you!”

Martha Simmons & Frank A. Thomas

A 2009 article in the Chicago Tribune told the story of Bettye Tucker, a Christian cook who works the night shift at Children’s Memorial Hospital in Chicago, Illinois. She has been doing her job for 43 years—28 of them on the night shift. She sees a steady stream of parents in her job, many of them frightened and weary. On one particular night around the time the article was written, Miss Bettye (as she is referred to by all who know her) served food to a mother whose three-year-old fell out of a second story window that morning, another mother whose seventeen-year-old was battling a rare form of leukemia, and a third mother whose eighteen-year-old had endured seven hours of brain surgery. Their stories break the heart of Miss Bettye, and—as one coworker interviewed for the article says—”that’s why she feeds every last one of them as if they had walked right into the ‘too-small’ kitchen of [the] South Side brick bungalow [where she lives].” A member of the hospital’s housekeeping crew adds this about Miss Bettye: “You need someone to bring you life, and she brings it in the middle of the night.”

A picture of Miss Bettye that accompanied the article shows a woman with a beautiful smile. It’s hard to imagine how much that smile would mean to a suffering parent or child. She says, “When I ask, ‘How you doin’ today?’ and they say it’s not a good day, I say, ‘Don’t lose hope.’ When the nurses tell me it’s a bad night, I say, ‘I understand it’s a bad night. But guess what? I am here for you. I’m going to get you through the night.'”

Another picture shows Bettye sitting down, head bowed, over a meal. “I’m a praying lady,” she says in the article. “I pray every night, for every room and every person in the hospital. I start with the basement, and I go up, floor by floor, room by room. I pray for the children, I pray for the families, I pray for the nurses and the doctors. … I say, every night while I’m driving in on the expressway, ‘Oh, Lord, I don’t know what I’ll face tonight, but I pray you’ll guide me through.'” Barbara Mahany

From a novel, On the Road with the Archangel:

I am Raphael, one of the seven archangels who pass in and out of the presence of the Holy One, blessed be he. I bring him the prayers of all who pray and those who don’t even know that they’re praying.

Some prayers I hold out as far from me as my arm will reach, the way a woman holds a dead mouse by the tail when she removes it from the kitchen. Some, like flowers, are almost too beautiful to touch, and others so aflame that I’d be afraid of their setting me on fire if I weren’t already more like fire than I am like anything else. There are prayers of such power that you might almost say they carry me rather than the other way round—the way a bird with outstretched wings is carried higher and higher on the back of the wind. There are prayers so apologetic and shamefaced and halfhearted that they all but melt away in my grasp like sad little flakes of snow. Some prayers are very boring. Frederick Buechner

God never gives us discernment in order that we may criticize, but that we may intercede. Oswald Chambers

Jean Bosco Gakirage was not there when everyone he knew was murdered. It was 1994, and the Rwandan priest was returning to his home church for ordination when he received the terrible news: “Do not come home. Your parents and the whole congregation have been murdered in the sanctuary.”

Jean refused to stay away. Reaching Musha, his small village, he found that only seven children remained alive. With the bodies of his parents and friends still inside the church, Jean told the children, “We are the Resurrection.” But he felt that he died that day.

The story did not go untold or unnoticed. A continent away, Marie Michelle saw a picture of the tall Rwandan in a mission magazine. Marie is a nun, living in seclusion and near-silence in a Missouri convent. Her heart went out to the newly ordained priest who lost his parents and six siblings to genocide. She asked for permission to write Jean a letter.

When the letter arrived, Jean could hardly believe it was for him. There was no one left to write to him since the death of his family and friends. He placed the envelope on the table while he stared at it—”to let it rest,” he said, “because it had come far.”

Finally, Jean opened the envelope and read these words:

I will pray for you every day. From now on you can think of me as your sister, and I will call you not “Father Jean” but “my brother.”

Jean responded to the letter with thanks and a promise to pray for Marie as well. He also included words from Psalm 141, “The evildoers appall me…but my eyes are fixed on thee, O Lord God; thou art my refuge.”

The daily prayers continued for ten years. Jean corresponded regularly. Marie was limited to two letters per year, but other nuns in the order wrote seasonally. Then, on July 8, 2004, Jean was given the opportunity to visit the convent. The nuns usually communicate with outsiders only through notes, but on this day Jean would be able to speak to Marie through a metal grate. After the midday prayers and services were over, the curtain over the grate parted. Standing with her nine Passionist sisters, Marie peered through the bars at Jean.

“My brother,” she said. “I thought I’d have to wait for heaven to see him.”

After what will likely be their only meeting in this life, both agreed on their greatest connection.

Marie said, “The union in prayer is the deepest thing, better than letters and pictures.” John Beukema

One day [childrens television’s] Mister Rogers was making a trip to California and decided to pay a visit to a teenager with cerebral palsy. “At first, the boy was made very nervous by the thought that Mister Rogers was visiting him,” [Tom] Junod writes. “He was so nervous, in fact, that when Mister Rogers did visit, he got mad at himself and began hating himself and hitting himself, and his mother had to take him to another room.” Mister Rogers waited patiently and when the boy came back, Mister Rogers said, “I would like you to do something for me. Would you do something for me?” On his computer, the boy answered yes. “I would like you to pray for me. Will you pray for me?”

Junod says that the boy was “thunderstruck” because “nobody had ever asked him for something like that, ever. The boy had always been prayed for. The boy had always been the object of prayer, and now he was being asked to pray for Mister Rogers, and although at first he didn’t know if he could do it, he said he would, he said he’d try, and ever since then he keeps Mister Rogers in his prayers and doesn’t talk about wanting to die anymore because he figures Mister Rogers is close to God, and if Mister Rogers likes him, that must mean God likes him, too.”

Tom Junod asked Mister Rogers how he knew what to say to make the boy feel better. He responded: “Oh, heavens no, Tom! I didn’t ask him for his prayers for him; I asked for me. I asked him because I think that anyone who has gone through challenges like that must be very close to God. I asked him because I wanted his intercession.”

God! Carry a big God. What did you think I was going to say – a stick? A stick won’t do you a bit of good.

How often have you met someone who is trying to get their message out by trying to be the loudest voice? I can think of a couple of lawyers who advertise on TV who spend their thirty seconds of commercial time essentially yelling at me, and I hate it! One even closes his ad with the phrase, “I’m waiting.” Consequently I’ve developed a new life principle: I don’t buy anything from anyone who yells at me.

Think about it for a minute … what is your first reaction when someone starts to yell? To move away, right? I get uncomfortable and defensive and I’m probably not really listening to anything the yeller is telling me. I just want the yelling to stop!

“A study conducted by the Church of England found the surprising result:

“Non-believers were asked if a practicing Christian had ever spoken to them about their faith. Of those who said yes, only 19 percent said it made them want to know more compared with 59 percent who said the opposite. While 23 percent said it made them feel ‘more positive towards Jesus Christ,’ 30 percent said it left them feeling more negative.”[1]

Hmmmm … could it be that sometimes when Christians are talking to non-believers, the Christians are acting like that lawyer on TV – “I’m waiting…” Could it be that some Christians are genuinely unpleasant people?

I was reading about Paul when he was stuck in Caesarea. If anybody had an excuse to be unpleasant, he did, ya know? I mean, if I were being held against my will and the governor wanted to trot me out to chat with him and his special friends from time to time, I think I’d be inclined to tell him to go take a flying leap! Why on earth would I want to be treated like the governor’s pet?

And yet, every time he’s summoned, Paul comes as he’s called and presents the gospel with so much grace and compassion that the people who hear him are moved and blessed. First Felix and then Festus are clearly holding Paul as a way to keep the Jews happy and under control, and other than insisting on being judged by Caesar, himself (because he knew his only other option was to be judged by the Jews and he knew how that would end.

Then Agrippa comes through to meet Festus and Festus brings Paul out again, still manacled, to talk to him. I’d sure be tempted to just stand there and give them the silent, hateful glare treatment, but Paul gives them his testimony!

Paul could have stood there and complained about being forced to live in confinement and about the way the Jews were trying to railroad him, but he didn’t. Once he made sure he was going to be tried by Caesar, he turns his attention to sharing the Gospel with these powerful men. Wow!

He didn’t insult the men for being self-serving or cowards. Antagonizing people almost never leads them to Jesus. Loving people leads people to Jesus. We can’t bully people into converting. We can lovingly speak the words the Holy Spirit gives us to speak and then pray that the people who hear us will hear the Love of Jesus in those words.

The other thing that Paul knew that we tend to forget is that whether these men took him on to Rome, kept him where he was, sent him back to Jerusalem, or were converted and set him free, God was in control of the outcome.

That’s why Paul could speak softly, even pleasantly, when he had not been treated fairly. He had already given every step he took, and every word he said to God and he trusted God – absolutely and completely. He knew that God could free him, but that He might not, and Paul was completely okay with either.

I have to ask myself, do I trust God’s directing my life, even if His direction is not the one I would have chosen? Would I be able to tell people my testimony while I’m being falsely accused and held captive? Could I look at my jailers and betrayers with love and say, like Paul, “Whether quickly or not, I pray to God that not only you but also all who are listening to me today might become such as I am—except for these chains”? Acts 26:29

“Since October 2016, American pastor, Andrew Brunson, has been held in Turkey as a political hostage. Pastor Brunson is accused of having links with an organization involved in a failed 2016 coup attempt, as well the outlawed Kurdistan Workers’ Party. But most observers contend that Turkey’s President Recep Tayyip Erdogan is keeping him imprisoned for diplomatic leverage.

“This past week (July 2018), after optimistic reports that Brunson would be released at the end of his third hearing in Turkey, the court continued the trial, this time to October 12. The judge sent the North Carolina pastor back to prison for another three months. At the time of his fourth hearing, Pastor Brunson will have spent more than two years of his life in a Turkish prison.

“Although the trial has not gone well for Brunson, at this hearing he still had an opportunity to proclaim the gospel. In the courtroom he forgave those who had testified falsely against him. Brunson said, ‘My faith teaches me to forgive, so I forgive those who testified against me.’

“Another American pastor who was present at the trial said, ‘As usual, there was much spurious testimony against Andrew. His testimony was absolutely powerful. He presented the gospel with confidence and defended himself with boldness.’

“In a Facebook post, Andrew’s wife, Norine, posted that ‘The Lord was absolutely glorified!!! He explained why he was here, he gave the gospel. He publicly forgave all those who have come against him, forgiving as he has been forgiven.’

“She continued: ‘He said, “It is a privilege to suffer for the sake of Christ. Blessed am I, as I suffer for him. Blessed am I, as I am slandered. Blessed am I, as I am being lied about. Blessed am I, as I am imprisoned. Blessed am I, as I share his suffering.” I am incredibly proud of him as I am quite sure he doesn’t feel that blessing at this point.’”[2]

Could I speak like either of those people? Could I speak words of love and know that God is in complete charge of the outcome? I pray that I can and will speak softly and carry a big God in my heart.

Lillianne Winegardner Lopez 9.14.18

Twenty years ago, my wife and I were vacationing in Estes Park, Colorado, and had breakfast in a coffee shop. It was empty except for four men at another table. One was mocking Christianity; in particular, the resurrection of Christ. He went on and on about what a stupid teaching that was.

I could feel the Lord asking me: “Are you going to let this go unchallenged?” However, I was thinking, But I don’t even know these guys. He’s bigger than me. He’s got cowboy boots on and looks tough. I was agitated and frightened about doing anything. But I knew I had to stand for Jesus.

Finally, I told Susan to pray. I took my last drink of water and went over and challenged him. With probably a squeaky voice, I said, “I’ve been listening to you, and you don’t know what you’re talking about!”

I did my best to give him a flying rundown of the proofs for the resurrection. He was speechless, and I was half dead. I must have shaken for an hour after that. But I had to take a stand.

We cannot remain anonymous in our faith forever. God has a way of flushing us out of our quiet little places, and when he does we must be ready to speak for him. 1 Peter 3:15 says, “Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have.” Lee Eclov

“The tone of our truth-telling can build a wall or a bridge,” said Ed Waltz.

Ed and his wife, Barb, from Ann Arbor, Michigan, should know. They witnessed two types of truth-telling by two doctors. The Waltz’s daughter, Deb, has cerebral palsy.

Barb had hoped that Deb would walk one day. After performing a battery of tests, the first doctor led Ed and Barb into a small conference room where he bluntly laid out for them what they could expect. In a tone that was cold and emotionally disconnected from his patient, the doctor said, “It is extremely unlikely that your daughter will ever walk.”

Still in a state of shock from the devastating news, Barb asked, “But what kind of shoes should I buy for my daughter?” She was thinking about some special corrective shoes, or perhaps shoes connected to a brace.

Without softening the blow, the doctor retorted, “Buy her whatever kind of shoes you want. She won’t be using them to walk in.” And with that, he quickly left the room, where Barb burst into tears.

Several months later, the family met with a second doctor. This time the entire scene felt different, though. Ed said, “My wife asked this new doctor essentially the same question she had asked the first one. She was still wondering if there was anything we could do that might enable our daughter to take even a few steps.”

The doctor paused for a moment, thinking. Then, he looked compassionately and directly into Barb’s eyes and said, “You know what I would do if I were you, Mrs. Waltz? I’d buy my daughter the prettiest little pink shoes I could find, with purple shoe laces.”

Barb knew what he meant.

Ed said, “We talked about our experience on the way home. Both doctors had told us the same thing—Deb would never walk. I’m ashamed to say what we felt like doing to the first doctor, but we felt like hugging the second doctor.”

How we tell the truth makes a difference in how that truth is received.

Clark Cothern

It’s nice to talk with people who can make a point without impaling anyone on it. Vicki Edwards

There is no way to have a real relationship without becoming vulnerable to hurt. Christmas tells us that God became breakable and fragile. God became someone we could hurt. Why? To get us back … . No other religion—whether secularism, Greco-Roman paganism, Eastern religion, Judaism, or Islam—believes God became breakable or suffered or had a body.” Tim Keller

Paul likens us to shining stars, and the word shine means to reflect. The scientific term is albedo. It’s a measurement of how much sunlight a celestial body reflects. The planet Venus, for example, has the highest albedo at .65. In other words, 65 percent of the light that hits Venus is reflected. Depending on where it’s at in its orbit, the almost-a-planet Pluto has an albedo ranging from .49 to .66. Our night-light, the moon, has an albedo of .07. Only seven percent of sunlight is reflected, yet it lights our way on cloudless nights.

In a similar sense, each of us has a spiritual albedo. The goal? One hundred percent reflectivity. We, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord. You cannot produce light. You can only reflect it. Mark Batterson

[1] John Bingham, “Talking about Christianity could put people off—Church of England signals,” Telegraph (10-30-14)

If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs … you clearly don’t fully understand the situation.

Actually, Rudyard Kipling’s poem, “If,” is much more uplifting:

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;

If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

As I read this, I thought it really summed up Paul’s life pretty well. What do you think? I mean, he experienced almost everything that Kipling mentions, just in Acts 21 – 23! Never mind the rest of Acts.

Within the first seven days that Paul was back in Jerusalem, he became the focus of a city wide riot. “The whole city was aroused, and the people came running from all directions. Seizing Paul, they dragged him from the temple, and immediately the gates were shut. While they were trying to kill him, news reached the commander of the Roman troops that the whole city of Jerusalem was in an uproar. He at once took some officers and soldiers and ran down to the crowd. When the rioters saw the commander and his soldiers, they stopped beating Paul.” Acts 21:30-32

Can you imagine? And then, not only did the rioters not get punished, but Paul’s the one who gets arrested and put in chains. Does that seem fair to you? Paul must have been thinking, “And why was I in such a hurry to get here?”

“The commander came up and arrested him and ordered him to be bound with two chains. Then he asked who he was and what he had done. Some in the crowd shouted one thing and some another, and since the commander could not get at the truth because of the uproar, he ordered that Paul be taken into the barracks. When Paul reached the steps, the violence of the mob was so great he had to be carried by the soldiers. The crowd that followed kept shouting, ‘Get rid of him!’” Acts 21:33-36

This makes me think of a quote from Soren Kierkegaard, theologian and philosopher, wrote: “When one preaches Christianity in such a way that the echo answers, ‘Away with that man, he does not deserve to live,’ know that this is the Christianity of the New Testament. Capital punishment is the penalty for preaching Christianity as it truly is.”[1]

Well, Paul was right on point then! Even so, as the soldiers carry him to the barracks, Paul remained so calm that he asks to speak to the people who had just been trying to rip him limb from limb. He speaks to the mob, in their own language and tells them the story of his conversion.

They listen to him for a bit, but when he tells them that God told him to preach to the Gentiles, the crowd completely loses their minds!

“The crowd listened to Paul until he said this. Then they raised their voices and shouted, ‘Rid the earth of him! He’s not fit to live!’

“As they were shouting and throwing off their cloaks and flinging dust into the air, the commander ordered that Paul be taken into the barracks. He directed that he be flogged and interrogated in order to find out why the people were shouting at him like this.” Acts 22:22-24

That’s an interesting fact finding method, don’t you think? Let’s beat him until he tells us who he is and why these people want to kill him. Sure, that’ll work.

Even then, as they’re tying him so they can flog him, he calmly and almost off handedly turns to one of the soldiers and asks what could be a hypothetical question: “Is it legal for you to flog a Roman citizen who hasn’t even been found guilty?”

He’s not demanding his rights. He’s not resisting. He’s not yelling, “Do you know who I am?” He’s not threatening to have anyone’s job. He quietly asks a question that might apply to himself, or might not.

“Those who were about to interrogate him withdrew immediately. The commander himself was alarmed when he realized that he had put Paul, a Roman citizen, in chains.” Acts 22:29

That poor commander. He was seeing his career pass before his eyes, thinking about what would have happened to him if he’d “interrogated” (beaten) a Roman citizen who hadn’t been charged with any crime. That would have been a career ending mistake!

When Paul is brought to the Sanhedrin, he continues to keep his head in spite of the craziness going on around him. Even when he accidentally insults the high priest, he calmly apologizes … just before he, with planning and forethought, starts another riot by getting the Sadducees and the Pharisees to fight with each other. That was brilliant, because then the whole, “then enemy of my enemy is my friend” think kicked in and all of a sudden, the Pharisees were defending him! Again – brilliant.

“Then Paul, knowing that some of them were Sadducees and the others Pharisees, called out in the Sanhedrin, ‘My brothers, I am a Pharisee, descended from Pharisees. I stand on trial because of the hope of the resurrection of the dead.’ When he said this, a dispute broke out between the Pharisees and the Sadducees, and the assembly was divided. (The Sadducees say that there is no resurrection, and that there are neither angels nor spirits, but the Pharisees believe all these things.

“There was a great uproar, and some of the teachers of the law who were Pharisees stood up and argued vigorously. ‘We find nothing wrong with this man,’ they said. ‘What if a spirit or an angel has spoken to him?’ The dispute became so violent that the commander was afraid Paul would be torn to pieces by them. He ordered the troops to go down and take him away from them by force and bring him into the barracks.” Acts 23:6-10

I think Kipling could have been thinking about Paul when he wrote the poem, “If.” Probably not, though, because if he had been, the last two lines would have read: “Yours is Heaven and everything that’s in it, And—which is more—you’ll be God’s man, my son!

Lillianne Winegardner Lopez 9.7.2018

Paul may have spent as much as 25 percent of his time as a missionary in prison. We know of his brief lock-up in Philippi, two years’ incarceration in Caesarea, and at least another two in Rome. Yet Paul says he experienced “far more imprisonments,” than his opponents. To understand Paul, we need to understand where he spent so much time.

Bloody Ordeal

Roman imprisonment was preceded by being stripped naked and then flogged, a humiliating, painful, and bloody ordeal. The bleeding wounds went untreated; prisoners sat in painful leg or wrist chains. Mutilated, blood-stained clothing was not replaced, even in the cold of winter. In his final imprisonment, Paul asked for a cloak, presumably because of the cold.

Most cells were dark, especially the inner cells of a prison, like the one Paul and Silas inhabited in Philippi. Unbearable cold, lack of water, cramped quarters, and sickening stench from few toilets made sleeping difficult and waking hours miserable.

Male and female prisoners were sometimes incarcerated together, which led to sexual immorality and abuse.

Prison food, when available, was poor. Most prisoners had to provide their own food from outside sources. When Paul was in prison in Caesarea, Felix, the procurator, gave orders to the centurion that “none of his friends should be prevented from attending to his needs.”

Because of the miserable conditions, many prisoners begged for a speedy death. Others simply committed suicide.

The Privileged Few

All of this could be mitigated to some extent if the prisoner was important or paid a bribe (as Governor Felix hoped to receive from Paul in Caesarea).

A prominent individual, or one expected to be released, might be kept under house arrest if he or she could afford the rent. In Rome, where housing prisoners was excessively expensive, Paul was given the privilege of house arrest, and he paid the rent himself (exactly how, we don’t know). He probably lived in a third-floor apartment; first floors were used for shops, and the second floor was expensive.

In his final imprisonment in Rome, though, Paul’s life came to an end in the woeful conditions of a Roman prison. John McRay

Waking up offers one of the most basic pictures of what can happen when God takes a hand in someone’s life. There are classic alarm-clock stories, Saul of Tarsus on the road to Damascus, blinded by a sudden light, stunned and speechless, discovered that the God he had worshipped had revealed himself in the crucified and risen Jesus of Nazareth. John Wesley found his heart becoming strangely warm and he never looked back. They and a few others are the famous ones, but there are millions more.

And there are many stories, thought they don’t hit the headlines in the same way, of the half-awake and half-asleep variety. Some people take months, years, maybe even decades, during which they aren’t sure whether they’re on the outside of Christian faith looking in, or on the inside looking around to see if it’s real.

As with ordinary waking up, there are many people who are somewhere in between. But the point is that there’s such a thing as being asleep, and there’s such a thing as being awake. And it’s important to tell the difference, and to be sure you’re awake by the time you have to be up and ready for action, whatever that action may be. N.T Wright

One of the greatest Christian leaders of the last century was John R. W. Stott, rector of All Souls Langham Place in London and a peerless preacher, Bible teacher, evangelist, author, global leader and friend to many. I knew him over many decades, but I will never forget my last visit to his bedside three weeks before he died. After an unforgettable hour and more of sharing many memories over many years, I asked him how he would like me to pray for him. Lying weakly on his back and barely able to speak, he answered in a hoarse whisper, “Pray that I will be faithful to Jesus until my last breath.” Would that such a prayer be the passion of our generation too. Os Guinness

Conversion seems to respect the raw materials we start with. It might turn a Saul into Paul; it’s not likely to turn a Rosanne Barr into Thomas Aquinas. John Ortberg

In his novel Ah, But Your Land Is Beautiful, Alan Paton tells the story of Robert Mansfield, the headmaster of a school in South Africa during the days of apartheid, a cruel system of racial segregation. When Mansfield’s school was barred from competing against a black school, he finally took a stand against apartheid and resigned his post. A friend said to him, “You know you will be wounded. Do you know that?”

Mansfield replied, pointing to heaven, “When I go up there … the Big Judge will say to me, ‘Where are your wounds?’ If I say I haven’t any, he will say, ‘Was there nothing to fight for?’ I couldn’t face that question.”

Bill White

Tell your story in as many ways as possible, and the result will be greater.

Charles Warnock III

Saving knowledge is diffused over the earth, not like sunlight but like torchlight, which is passed from hand to hand. James Strachan

When John Grisham wrote a book called A Time To Kill, it sold just five thousand copies in hard cover. I don’t think it was advertised, ever made a list or was reviewed by anybody that I know of. It was sort of a flop.

Then he wrote The Firm, and it wasn’t advertised either. It was hardly reviewed, and the reviews it got weren’t very good. But people read it and liked it and told other people they liked it and The Firm sold seven million copies.

John Grisham has written several other books, and today the number-one paperback best seller in the United States is by John Grisham, as are number-two and number-three. And the number-one hardcover best seller is by John Grisham. That has never happened before in history, and it’s not because of advertising, not because of the publisher’s clever marketing plan, but because somebody liked the book. I guess a lot of people liked the book and told other people, until millions of these books have been sold.

Christians are people who like Jesus. They’ve experienced him, and so they tell somebody else. It doesn’t take a newspaper ad. It doesn’t take a review in a magazine. Evangelism is people who like Jesus and have experienced him, telling other people, until it has spread to thousands and millions and tens of millions and hundreds of million and more.

Leith Anderson

Courage is almost a contradiction in terms. It means a strong desire to live taking the form of a readiness to die. G. K. Chesterton

I am struggling to understand the “don’t impose your values” argument. According to this popular belief, it is wrong, and perhaps dangerous, to vote your moral convictions unless everybody else already shares them. Of course if everybody already shared them, no imposition would be necessary. Nobody ever explains exactly what constitutes an offense in voting one’s values, but the complaints appear to be aimed almost solely at conservative Christians, who are viewed as divisive when they try to “force their religious opinions on us.” But as UCLA law professor Eugene Volokh writes, “That’s what most lawmaking is—trying to turn one’s opinions on moral or pragmatic subjects into law.”

Those who think Christians should keep their moral views to themselves, it seems to me, are logically bound to deplore many praiseworthy causes, including the abolition movement, which was mostly the work of the evangelical churches courageously applying Christian ideas of equality to the entrenched institution of slavery. The slave owners, by the way, frequently used “don’t impose your values” arguments, contending that whether they owned blacks or not was a personal and private decision and therefore nobody else’s business. John Leo

Our church rented a theater to watch The Passion of the Christ on opening weekend. Afterward we gathered for dinner, discussion, and prayer. I returned home in a somber mood, deeply reflecting upon the sacrifice of Christ.

When I opened my mail that night, the first letter was from a local church, inviting me to visit their “special community.” They listed the ways they were unique:

No religious dogma—We encourage the freedom of individual thought and belief. A humanist view of life—Our faith is based on celebrating the inherent worth and dignity of every person.

Warm, accessible services—Our Sunday services…typically include a mix of readings, music, moments of meditation or contemplation, and a sermon….

Our children’s religious education program—We teach our kids to be accepting of differing beliefs and the importance of each person seeking his or her own truth. They study the world’s major religions and draw on the core values of each faith tradition….

So if you’re looking for a congregation that cherishes freedom of belief and opinion, with a warm sense of community and fellowship, please visit us!

I had watched the horrific suffering of Jesus and heard him say, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” Hours later I opened an invitation to visit a group where truth doesn’t matter. The contrast was overwhelming. John Beukema

Martin Niemoeller, a World War I hero in Germany, was imprisoned for eight years by Hitler. He spent time in prisons and concentration camps, including Dachau. Hitler realized if Niemoeller could be persuaded to join his cause then much opposition would collapse, so he sent a former friend of Niemoeller’s to visit him, a friend who supported the Nazis.

Seeing Niemoeller in his cell, the onetime friend said, “Martin, Martin! Why are you here?”

Niemoeller replied, “My friend! Why are you not here?”

Amos S. Creswell

Joshua Chamberlain was a student of theology and a professor of rhetoric, not a soldier. But when duty called, Chamberlain answered. He climbed the ranks to become colonel of the 20th Maine Volunteer Infantry Regiment, Union Army.

On July 2, 1863, Chamberlain and his three-hundred-soldier regiment were all that stood between the Confederates and certain defeat at a battlefield in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. At 2:30 P.M., the 15th and 47th Alabama infantry regiments of the Confederate army charged, but Chamberlain and his men held their ground. Then followed a second, third, fourth, and fifth charge. By the last charge, only 80 blues stood standing. Chamberlain himself was knocked down by a bullet that hit his belt buckle, but the 24-year-old schoolteacher got right back up.

It was his date with destiny. When Sergeant Tozier informed Chamberlain that no reinforcements were coming and his men were down to one round of ammunition per soldier, Chamberlain knew he needed to act decisively. Their lookout informed Colonel Chamberlain that the Confederates were forming rank. The rational thing to do at that point, with no ammunition and no reinforcements, would have been to surrender. But Chamberlain made a defining decision: in full view of the enemy, Chamberlain climbed onto their barricade of stones and gave a command. He pointed his sword and yelled, “Charge!”

His men fixed bayonets and started running at the Confederate army, which vastly outnumbered them. They caught them off guard by executing a great right wheel. And in what ranks as one of the most improbable victories in military history, 80 Union soldiers captured 4,000 Confederates in five minutes.

Historians believe that if Chamberlain had not charged, the Confederate army would have gained the high ground, won the Battle of Gettysburg, and eventually won the war. One man’s courage saved the day, saved the war, and saved the Union. Mark Batterson

Leadership is the capacity to inspire and motivate; to persuade people willingly to endure hardships, usually prolonged, and incur dangers, usually acute, that if left to themselves they would do their utmost to avoid.

Sir Michael Howard

How we deal with death is at least as important as how we deal with life.

Admiral James T. Kirk

Every Christian–as he explores the historical record of Scripture and tradition and comes to a deep, abiding faith–experiences that Christ is the risen one and that he is therefore the eternally living one. It is a deep, life-changing experience. No true Christian can keep it hidden as a personal matter. For such an encounter with the living God cries out to be shared–like the light that shines, like the yeast that leavens the whole mass of dough. Pope John Paul II

by Lillianne Lopez

“As long as you keep going, you’ll keep getting better. And as you get better, you gain more confidence. That alone is success.”[1]

“I always think today is better than yesterday, and tomorrow is better than today.”[2]

We hear lots of quotes like these pretty often, don’t we? Along with things like, “If God brings you to it, He’ll bring you through it.” and “It’ll all be ok in the end. If it’s not ok, it’s not the end.”

These saying all seem to imply that our lives move from not so good to better. I’ve had posters of sayings like these on my classroom walls. I’ve reposted them on Facebook, but I’m beginning to question the validity of this philosophy of life – partly because, as I live, age, and gain experiences, I am noticing that things don’t always get better. Things aren’t always ok, even at the end.

I was thinking about Paul this week. In Acts 19, Paul heads out on his third and last journey. He was taking his farewell tour. I’m nor sure how he knew it, but he’s going back to the churches he’d started and, essentially, giving them his parting wisdom. “And indeed, now I know that you all, among whom I have gone preaching the kingdom of God, will see my face no more. … And when he had said these things, he knelt down and prayed with them all. Then they all wept freely, and fell on Paul’s neck and kissed him, 38 sorrowing most of all for the words which he spoke, that they would see his face no more. And they accompanied him to the ship.” Acts 20:25, 36-38

It becomes pretty clear as he goes along and gets closer to Jerusalem, that things are not going to end well for Paul: “And as we stayed many days, a certain prophet named Agabus came down from Judea. When he had come to us, he took Paul’s belt, bound his own hands and feet, and said, ‘Thus says the Holy Spirit, “So shall the Jews at Jerusalem bind the man who owns this belt, and deliver him into the hands of the Gentiles.”’” Acts 21:10-11

Why did Paul keep going if he knew how his journey would end? Why would anybody walk into a situation that they know will end badly? Aren’t we trained, from birth, practically, to avoid sketchy situations? Why didn’t Paul listen to Agabus?

Come to think of it, I can think of other people who kept going onward and forward when odds were good things would end badly. Daniel went on praying in his window, three times a day, even when he knew there was a law against it. Most of the apostles continued to preach the gospel even after they were thrown in prison, beaten, and/or threatened with death.

Even today, there are those who go boldly into darkness with no guarantee they will come back out again.

“Kayla Mueller, 26 years old, was captured by ISIS, and on February 10, 2015 U.S. officials confirmed that Muslim extremists had murdered her while in captivity. In the spring of 2014 as a captor she wrote to her family. The letter begins with Kayla’s assurance that she has been treated well, and is ‘in a safe location, completely unharmed + healthy.’ The 26-year-old aid worker goes on to apologize touchingly to her family for the suffering that she has put them through because of her captivity. Then comes her central proposition: ‘I remember mom always telling me that all in all in the end the only one you really have is God. I have come to a place in experience where, in every sense of the word, I have surrendered myself to our creator b/c literally there was no else.’

“Kayla, who was involved in the campus ministry at Northern Arizona University, goes on to relate how ‘by God + by your prayers I have felt tenderly cradled in freefall.’ She adds: ‘I have been shown in darkness, light + have learned that even in prison, one can be free. I am grateful. I have come to see that there is good in every situation, sometimes we just have to look for it.’

“She concluded, ‘Please be patient, give your pain to God. I know you would want me to remain strong. That is exactly what I am doing. Do not fear for me, continue to pray as will I. By God’s will we will be together soon. All my everything, Kayla’”[3]

The question is, am I willing to go onward and forward in the will of Jesus Christ, when I have no assurance that “I always think today is better than yesterday, and tomorrow is better than today.”?

Yes, I know, we have the promise of eternity, but there might be a lot of ugliness between now and then. That can be very, VERY intimidating? Am I sure I can go through that ugliness without losing my faith? Are you sure you can?

“The story we’re called to tell and live and die by is one of risk confronted, death embraced. What’s more, Jesus calls us to walk the narrow way, take up a cross with him, daily. It’s terribly risky business. Ask that bright company of martyrs that quite recklessly parted with goods, security, and life itself, preferring to be faithful in death rather than safe in life.”[4]

“It was that eternal perspective that inspired J. W. Tucker to risk his earthly life for the gospel. Tucker didn’t fear death because he had already died to self. It wasn’t an uncalculated risk that led J. W. Tucker into the Congo during a civil war. He counted the cost with his missionary friend Morris Plotts. Plotts tried to convince his friend not to go. ‘If you go in,’ he prophetically pleaded, ‘you won’t come out.’ To which Tucker responded, ‘God didn’t tell me I had to come out. He only told me I had to go in.’”[5]

Eternal perspective … on second thought, things will get better and better … onward and forward for Jesus Christ!

Lillianne Winegardner Lopez 8.31.2018

Jesus is the great polarizer. It’s as if all of humanity were iron filings laid out on a sheet of paper, and Jesus is the magnet. Every single filing lines up either with the North Pole or the South Pole. Every person is either attracted to or repelled by the person of Jesus Christ, because he’s a magnet. The power and influence of his very being cannot be ignored.

Kent Edwards

Faith is confidence in the person of Jesus Christ and in his power, so that even when his power does not serve my end, my confidence in him remains because of who he is. Ravi Zacharias

Clay is actually composed of many microscopic clay mineral crystals, which not even a light microscope can see. But under pressure the clay minerals are not crushed or made smaller. Rather, they grow larger. The minerals change into new larger biotype grains forming slate, found on many homes. With even more pressure, the minerals become even larger. And some are transformed into garnets, which are semi-precious gems.

I explained to the congregation that this geological process illustrates how pressure and suffering can be used to refine, purify, and mold a person into a more beautiful soul. I will never forget what I saw when I looked at the congregation. It seemed like the whole congregation was sparkling. The babushkas’ (old women) eyes were gleaming bright with tears recalling past suffering. What makes a gem so attractive? It’s the reflection. And these dear women and men were reflecting God’s glory through the suffering they had endured.

The metamorphic rock story doesn’t end there. With even more pressure applied, a new mineral forms called staurolite. The name is from two Greek words meaning “stone cross.” The twin variety forms deep under high mountains in the shape of a cross. A reminder of Christ’s ultimate suffering for us all. James Clark,

I believe it to be a grave mistake to present Christianity as something charming and popular with no offense in it. Dorothy Sayers

Following Sunday worship services on January 8, 2006, five young men attacked and threatened to kill a Protestant church leader in Turkey’s fourth largest city. Kamil Kiroglu, 29, had just left his church in Adana when he was ambushed and beaten so severely that he fell unconscious twice.

“They were trying to force me to deny Jesus,” Kiroglu said. “But each time they asked me to deny Jesus and become a Muslim, I was saying, ‘Jesus is Lord.’ The more I said, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ the more they beat me.” One of the attackers pulled out a long butcher knife and threatened to kill Kiroglu if he did not deny his Christian faith and return to Islam. Kiroglu refused.

After the incident, he said, “I am praising God—not because he saved me from death, but because he helped me not to deny him in the shadow of death.” Lee Eclov

Beyond the Gates of Splendor is a documentary based on Elizabeth Elliot’s best-selling book, Through Gates of Splendor. Both tell the true story of 5 missionaries: Jim Elliot, Pete Fleming, Ed McCully, Nate Saint, and Roger Youderian, who in January 1956 were speared to death in the jungles of Ecuador by the Auca Indians.

In a testament to forgiveness, the documentary shows family members of the slain missionaries return to the Amazon basin and live among the Auca tribe. Their evangelistic efforts eventually help Christianity to flourish among the native people.

In this particular scene, Frank Drown, a pilot and missionary friend, recalls leading the search-and-rescue team in an effort to find the five slain missionaries: “They [the slain missionaries] had guns with them. They had said that they would never kill the Aucas, even if they attacked them, because they made this strong statement: ‘They’re not ready for heaven, and we are.'” Van Morris

Missionary Karen Watson counted the cost of following Jesus. That’s why she left a letter with her pastor before going to Iraq. She went to provide humanitarian relief in the name of Jesus—but she was gunned down in the country she came to serve.

The letter began, “You’re only reading this if I died.” It included gracious words to family and friends, and this simple summary of following Christ: “To obey was my objective, to suffer was expected, his glory my reward.”

Bill White

When one preaches Christianity in such a way that the echo answers, ‘Away with that man, he does not deserve to live,’ know that this is the Christianity of the New Testament. Capital punishment is the penalty for preaching Christianity as it truly is.” Soren Kierkegaard

When Jesus said, “If you are going to follow me, you have to take up a cross,” it was the same as saying, “Come and bring your electric chair with you. Take up the gas chamber and follow me.” He did not have a beautiful gold cross in mind–the cross on a church steeple or on the front of your Bible. Jesus had in mind a place of execution. Billy Graham

The story we’re called to tell and live and die by is one of risk confronted, death embraced. What’s more, Jesus calls us to walk the narrow way, take up a cross with him, daily. It’s terribly risky business. Ask that bright company of martyrs that quite recklessly parted with goods, security, and life itself, preferring to be faithful in death rather than safe in life.

The year was A.D. 155, and the persecution against Christians swept across the Roman Empire and came to the city of Smyrna. The proconsul of Symrna, swept up in this persecution, put out an order that the Bishop of Symrna, Polycarp, was to be found, arrested, and brought to the public arena for execution. They found Polycarp and brought him before thousands of spectators screaming for blood. But the proconsul had compassion on this man who was almost a hundred years old. He signaled the crowd to silence. To Polycarp he said, “Curse the Christ and live.”

The crowd waited for the old man to answer. In an amazingly strong voice, he said, “Eighty and six years have I served him, and he has done me no wrong. How dare I blaspheme the name of my king and Lord!” With that Polycarp became a martyr. Leith Anderson